Red Sparks
by Cautellis
Summary: Sequel to Green Ink. Riza Alvic might have emerged from the nigh disaster that was her final year of Hogwarts with something like a happy ending. But dark times are descending on the wizarding world, and there are whispers of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named's return. Soon everyone will have to decide where to make a stand.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is a sequel to Green Ink. I recommend reading that first. If you have already, then welcome back. **_

"Alvic, get your arse down here!" a familiar voice echoed up from the hole a couple of feet away from me, "It's another one of those hexy locks."

"Hexy locks" I muttered incredulously as I heaved myself into the underground passage from which the voice had originated. I had spent nearly eight months in Peru, and this was my first solo project as official team code breaker. The odd snake bite and plant sting aside, things were going surprisingly well. Certainly a lot better than the beginning of my training, which had resulted in the near collapse of an unspeakably ancient goblin mine, the saviour of it by my instructor had done nothing to prevent Penrook, goblin and chief appraiser, refusing to speak to me for the rest of the six months. Fortunately Jagrin, our resident goblin for this excursion, seemed a little friendlier, for a goblin anyway.

I made my way over the dank smelling earth in the passage until I came to the aforementioned lock. It was set into a vast stone door, nearly twice my height, and the mechanism worked its way across its vast breadth. Pippa, the voice which had spoken earlier, stood beside it, her face streaked with sweat, behind her stood Simon, a historian who, while sweet, hadn't quite become accustomed to working underground yet. He looked more pale than ever in the flickering light.

"Get it open would you?" Pippa muttered impatiently but not unkindly, I can sense treasure on the other side of this door.

I was inclined to believe her. Pippa's senses hadn't been wrong yet, it was a useful quality in a team leader. Giving her a brief nod I tied my hair back, I had refused to cut it despite the heat, and inspected the lock more closely.

Pippa's evaluation, while lacking in eloquence, had been correct. This lock could give everyone here a nasty shock if it was handled incorrectly. The goblins which had built these underground caverns had been reluctant to give up their treasures so easily, even thousands of years on. I drew my wand from my belt, tapping at the door experimentally, between that and the runes engraved on the vast body of the door I could deduce there were five individual bolts, each one requiring a particular magical construction to open it. It would require some delicate handiwork, but it would be possible. I produced a quill and parchment, ignoring Pippa's exasperated sigh, and began scribbling down some calculations. It didn't take too long, my Arithmancy skills had vastly improved since my time at Hogwarts, a time which seemed an age ago. When I was sure I had come to the correct solution, I began the first enchantment.

It was intense work, and even Pippa knew to keep her mouth shut while I was conducting it. A few months ago my hand would have been shaking, but I had grown in confidence since, and instead found myself relaxing into the absolute precision of the spell. A subtle creak of metal indicated the first bolt had moved back into the home. I shook my shoulders, wiped the sweat from my brow and turned to the second. Twenty minutes later, the final bolt shuddered into place and the door slowly creaked away on its hinges.

"Nice work" Pippa grinned, clapping me on the shoulder. "Let's do this."

Simon smiled too, excitement lighting up his youthful face. He was muggle-born, and had come here from Hogwarts a few years before me. I hadn't known him, despite the fact he had been a Ravenclaw. That was hardly surprising to be honest, he seemed the type to keep himself to himself, and I barely saw him out here in Peru, except on the job.

Pippa heaved open the door with a deceptive strength for someone of her size. She scarcely reached my shoulder, but her thin body was taught with muscle. She was an old hand at this, having worked on projects like it since before I was born. It was she who led the way into the next chamber.

And what a chamber it was, vast, as large as three of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and so high that it seemed impossible that something as diminutive as goblins could have carved it. But if the room was impressive, its contents where more so. No gold, or finery, but scrolls, thousands of them lining every wall. Simon gave a cry, the loudest noise I'd heard from him, and rushed towards the nearest shelf, gaping wildly at the selection.

"History!" he exclaimed running towards them, "folklore, ancient spells, this is incredible." He was like a kid at Christmas, "who knows, maybe they'll even have the secret of their forging here?"

"Unlikely" said a dry voice from behind me, I turned to see Jagrin standing in the doorway. If he was shocked he didn't show it, but surveyed the room with a hungry look in his eyes.

"No?" Simon asked him timidly, while we were all wary of Jagrin I got the impression that Simon was the only one truly scared of him.

"Foolish boy" the goblin continued, "the goblin's passed on their knowledge father to son, why write it down and risk exposing the techniques to wizards?" He said the last word with a bitter hiss.

Simon looked red faced, but the discovery seemed to have given him an enthusiasm that even Jagrin couldn't quell. "Riza, come and see this!"

Apart from Jagrin, of course, Simon and I were the only members of the team able to read the ancient runes the scrolls were written in. Dizzy with excitement, I headed over to Simon and joined him pouring over the ancient parchment. The amount of knowledge here was staggering, truly staggering, the remnants of a lost civilisation. The goblin settlers in Peru had vanished hundreds of years ago, with no real record as to why. Part of this series of explorations was to find out why. Perhaps these scrolls might provide the answers we were after.

Pippa was surveying the room with an experienced eye. "This is good stuff" she nodded approvingly, "very good." She didn't bother to inspect any further, but stayed where she was, overseeing the vast room. "It must have been a library." She remarked, fairly obviously, "I think the ministry will be very interested in this."

The next hour or so was spent discussing the logistics of transporting the scrolls to the surface. Despite their age they had been well preserved, so at least they wouldn't fall apart on the journey. By the time evening fell the last of the batch had been safely transferred into the preservation vehicle, heading for HQ in Lima, after which it would be transported to London. Jagrin watched wordlessly as the scrolls where packed up, his face unmoving but stern. Understandably perhaps he viewed the scrolls as exclusively goblin heritage, but, as I had no desire to explain to him, it was our heritage too. The early goblins had laid the groundwork for much of wizard society, and I, at least, believed that the two species were more closely connected than perhaps either one was ready to admit. Still, I shared his hope the scrolls might be returned to the goblins, after the information in them had been recorded.

When I returned to my room late that night I found Leonard waiting for me. Despite being a rat he seemed to have taken a dislike to the cold dark of the mines and chose to spend his days sunbathing on my windowsill. He was, as I had remarked to him, slightly pathetic.

Next to Leonard was another familiar creature. I smiled to see Quaffle, Wood's Owl, sitting on the corner of my bed. "Hey there" I muttered to her, giving her one of the treats I kept in my drawer, and detaching the letter. Wood had written to me almost weekly since my time in Peru, and for the last few months all his letters had been complaining about how "grossly unfair it was that the Triwizard Tournament had only happened after we left." It had even taken up more of the letter than Quidditch, and his continuing training with Puddlemere. When I opened this letter I knew something was wrong. Instead of the pages of rushed scrawl, there was only one line.

_You have to come home. Diggory has been murdered._

* * *

_**AN: So I'm back. I'll try and get as much as this done over the summer. As you might have guessed, this shall be a slightly darker story than the last, which makes sense given the events which will provide the backdrop. **_


	2. Puddlemere

An hour and a half later I was battling through the early summer rains that battered down on the rural fields that surrounded the small wizarding town of Puddlemere. I had left Peru in a hurry, scribbling a brief note to Pippa and shoving my belongings into a large black bin liner I had since deposited back home. My father had been glad to see me, though he had guessed the melancholy purpose of my visit. We had eaten a sombre meal together, our reunion tainted by the sadness which hung over us, and then I had apparated here where I was shortly soaked to the bone, and unable to find Oliver's house.

Oliver had moved here shortly after signing. His house wasn't much, a small bungalow with a kitchen, living room, bedroom and solitary bathroom, but it was his, and it had its own quaint charm. I'd spent a fair amount of time there over the summer, before my training had begun, but in the rain the streets seemed unfamiliar and my mind was distracted.

Cedric Diggory was dead. The idea was strange and foreign. Diggory, who'd been competition but nearly a friend, a Diggory I'd laughed with a Flint, the source of so many jokes between Oliver and me, and now he was gone. The fact wouldn't digest, like a piece of gristle it kept re-emerging in my throat on a wave a bile. It couldn't be true, and yet there it was, as real as the rain which pounded on my face. I thought of Cho, I couldn't help it, I'd left her and Diggory in the throws of almost romance, and now he was gone. He was so young, we were all so young, too young for this. I almost wanted to write to her, but Cho and I had barely spoken since our last Quidditch match, and not at all since I moved to Peru. And besides, what would I say?

I trudged on in the rain, cursing, until finally I saw a familiar figure down the street. "Riza?" Oliver shouted over the cacophonic weather, "is that you?"

"Yep" I called back in a strangled sort of voice, and the figure came bounding down the street towards me, wrapping his arms so tightly around me I could hardly breathe.

"Hey you" I said, when he finally broke away from me. I looked into his already soaking face. The rain disguised whether he'd been crying, but he was clearly upset. More upset than I'd expected, I'd always thought Oliver had little tolerance for Diggory, but maybe the rivalry had been a kind of friendship, or maybe he just as shocked as me. Still, he was putting on an effort to be cheerful.

"You look gorgeous" he said teasingly, brushing some of the sodden hair that was plastered to my forehead.

"Oh shut up" I muttered, pulling him in for kiss, his face feeling cold against mine. "Now, can we please go inside?"

"Sure." Oliver lifted the bag out of my hands and slung it over his shoulder.

"Oh very chivalrous" I said, cuffing him slightly on the arm.

"I could lift you and all." He replied wickedly

"Oh really now?"

"I'll prove it."

"Don't you dare" But it was too late, within seconds I too was hoisted over Oliver's shoulder, looking down at the puddled ground. "I am not impressed" I told him petulantly.

"Oh yes you are."

"Okay, maybe a little" I had to admit I was, Oliver had grown stronger in our time apart, "You're fitter than last time I saw you."

"Yeah I am." I couldn't see his face but I got the distinct impression he was wiggling his eyebrows. I kicked him gently in the stomach.

"Not like that. Now can we please get a move on?"

Oliver carried me all the way into the house, finally depositing me on the sofa. I stared up at him crossly, but he only laughed, although in a way which failed to convince me.

"Cup of tea?" He offered

"Please"

When we had settled down on the sofa I broached the topic of Diggory. Wood looked down at me sadly. "He was so young"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Whose fault is it?" I was yet to learn any details yet.

"Well, that's the thing. The ministry are saying he died during the last task. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time a champion's died, that why they stopped in the first place right? But, people saw Cedric's" he swallowed, almost unable to say the word, "body, and apparently it looked like he had been got with a killing curse. I mean, who would put a killing curse in a tournament task."

"So you don't agree with the ministry?"

"I don't know Riza, but I do know this. Potter was with him, he appeared with Cedric after it all happened, apparently he saw whatever ever it was killed Cedric, or should I say, whoever it was."

"Who was it?" Oliver was making me nervous, there was a fear in his eyes I'd never seen before, even before a Quidditch final.

"Oh God, Riza, I don't even know how to tell you this. He said Cedric was killed by You-Know-Who."

I dropped my mug, the warm liquid spread over my lap but I didn't feel it. It was impossible, I hadn't heard that name used like this since the whispers which had surrounded me when I was two years old. Even I, in my infant state, had learned to fear that name, or lack thereof, and here it was again, like a nightmare made flesh.

"Do you believe him?" I asked, my voice scarcely more than a whisper.

"The Daily Prophet doesn't" Oliver replied, "but they've printed a lot of rubbish about Potter in the past. As far as I know he's a good kid, he wouldn't lie. Not about this. And if he is telling the truth-"

"Then the ministry would do all they could to discredit him" I finished, my mind was reeling. "Poor Cedric."

"What do we do?" Wood asked, placing his arm around my shoulders.

"I don't know. Wait I guess. Wait, and prepare and be ready to fight when the time comes, because, if he is back, we will all have to fight eventually. And in the meantime…"

"In the meantime make the most of the days we have left to us." Wood tilted my face towards him and kissed my forehead. "I love you, you know that."

I nodded, "I love you too." I'd said the words before, that this time it felt like they meant something more, like I was trying to beat back an encroaching darkness.

Later that night, while Oliver lay beside me in bed, I tried to cry, to mourn Cedric's death in the way I felt I should. But there was nothing, only anger and I wanted to scream rather than settle into grief. As we had been falling asleep, I had felt a few salty tears on the back of my neck, to my shame I had just pretended to be asleep.


	3. Funeral

_**Hello, I'm so sorry for the delay in putting this up. It's been quite the summer! I'm just flagging here that I have addressed a somewhat controversial issue in this chapter, I apologise if it offends, but I do not apologise for the beliefs expressed. I hope that's understandable. It is all part of making this story a markedly darker one than its prequel. **_

Chapter Three

Things began to escalate quickly after that, or I suppose they must have done. From the outside we only saw little bits. The whispers that filtered down to the dark room Simon and I worked in translating the manuscripts, located beneath the London Museum of Magical History. The increasing reports of disappearances in the Prophet, and then the sudden lack of reports, more and more children around as they're parents kept them back from Hogwarts, shops shutting down, people shutting down. There was a darkness in the air, and I could see it on my father's face every time I saw him, a new wrinkle carved into his skin, another hair turned grey. He never mentioned it, but he was worried, more than worried, he was scared.  
I continuously tried to reassure myself he would be ok, I mean, he worked in what had to be the most mundane department in the ministry, even if You-Know-Who was beginning to stir he wouldn't be brought into it. He just checked cauldrons. He wasn't important. Not important to them anyway.  
Henry shared my concerns, Flora's position at the ministry was now fairly prominent, working on something so high level she couldn't tell us what it was. Henry seemed to have aged more than the three years it had been since school had ended. But then, he was seeing the worst of it, St Mungo's had had a recent increase in custom, people being cursed, some even killed, turning up every day on his door. It was as much as he could do to hold it together.

Flora was stronger, the strongest out of all of us, or so it seemed. Every day she went into work, pushing aside whatever apprehension she felt to do the job. Henry wanted her to stop, begged her, but she refused. But that was Flora, sweet and kind and utterly stubborn when she wanted to be. This was her dream, she said, and she wasn't going to give it up until You-Know-Who himself showed up. So it continued, day after day, year after year, everyone silently panicking, fearing that one day we would be the one who vanished in the night.

Even Oliver hadn't escaped, he might not have been in London but the even he could read the papers, and even all the way down in Puddlemere people talked, or stopped talking rapidly. And if that was obvious enough the fear he sensed off all of us whenever we saw each other was enough to infect him. They were dark times, and getting darker, and everywhere was the unspoken but universal thought, _it is happening again._

Until, one day, finally, it happened. I don't remember what came first, the Owl from the Weasley twins, or the Prophet, which one of the two first told of the unimaginable news that Albus Dumbledore had been murdered by Snape. Despite all the expectation something horrible was about to happen, this was impossible to process. Dumbledore was Dumbledore, he wasn't a man he was a figurehead, an indomitable fact of Hogwarts, the greatest wizard of his age, almost immortal in his prowess, and he was gone. Wiped out. By a man I'd scarcely thought of for three years.

If I had to pick a moment where we all realised that we were at war, that was it. This was the first move on the enemy. But we had no army, there was no organised resisatance, no way to fight back. We were alone against a man, no, against a _thing_ that could take out this powerful figure with a word. Who would kill us without even knowing our names, just if we got in the way, if we were in the wrong place at the wrong time, for picking the wrong side in the war. But the wrong side was the right side, but the right side couldn't tell you what to do. You could only hide, and wait for the storm to pass, wait for another miracle like the one that had happened 15 years ago.

Oliver and I stood together at the back of the funeral, much like we had for Cedric's three years earlier. A few feet away Flora and Henry stood, clutching each other, tears streaming down both their faces, intermingling on their pressed-together cheeks. I simply held Oliver's hand, bone-dry, dead eyes, watching a white tomb be lowered into the ground. There might have been words, there probably were, Dumbledore's life had certainly giving people a lot to talk about, but they passed unheard, by me, and, I imagine, most of the crowd there that day. Because, listening to someone harp on about Dumbledore's academic achievement, his progress in magical research and everything else that great man had accomplished in his life, it didn't seem important. We were there, technically, to mourn the loss of a great man, to mark the ending of an extraordinary life. But in actuality, we were there to mark a beginning, the start of the greatest battle of our lives, and all we could do, all any of us could do, the best wizards of our age, was hide. Run and hide and wait it out, because while the enemy stayed in the shadows all you could do was cling to the light. Cling to the light, and cling to each other, as I clung to Oliver.

That night Oliver and I stayed in Puddlemere, there was no Quidditch on but there was something peaceful about the countryside, a sense of calm that was entirely lacking from my flat in Southwark. It was raining again, you might have said that was appropriate but then it never really stopped raining here so you couldn't read too much into it.

"Tea?" Oliver asked as I settled onto the sofa.

"Thanks." The silence settled, not uncomfortable but present all the same.

"Are you ok?" He finally asked, tucking himself beside me.

"Fine. Honestly."

"Are you saying your fine because you don't want me to worry?"

"Yes"

"Well, I'm worried anyway, so worrying about you isn't particularly inconvenient for me. Besides, I always worry about you."

That surprised me, Oliver never came across as particularly protective, unless you counted punching Greengrass back when we were at school. The funeral had probably made him sentimental.

"I didn't know you worried about me?"

"Well of course I do. You forget, I once thought you were dead, it was the worst few minutes of my life."

"When was that?"

"When I found you in the Quidditch store room."

"Oh that, you thought I was dead?"

"You should have seen the blood. I still get nightmares about that."

"Oh, I looked that terrible did I?"

"Worse, but that's not the point. The point is, I love you, and if I lost you, well, I don't think even Quidditch could comfort me."

"That much huh?" He nodded, "Well, if it's any comfort, I'd probably go a bit nuts if you died too."

"A bit nuts?"

"A lot nuts. I'd probably go all psycho axe-crazy on whoever killed you."

"I feel sorry for them."

"Don't feel too sorry, they've murdered you."

"Well" Oliver hoisted me onto his lap, "I feel very much alive, so maybe hold off on the axe-crazy for now. Come on, I reckon we've still got a few hours before we're going to be absolutely exhausted tomorrow."

"Bedtime?" I smiled.

"Bedtime" he agreed, sweeping me over his shoulder.

"I still don't find this funny!" I shouted back at him.

Evidently he did, however, as he chuckled and ignored me. And for a little while, the darkness of the outside world seemed kept at bay by the flickering lights in the house.

The weeks went by and we received good news., Flora was pregnant. Henry was sickeningly happy, the pair of them were, and the only thing getting me through the intoxicating joyfulness that filtered out of them was the promise that I would be the godmother. No one mentioned the obvious, that the kid was going to be born into the atmosphere of general crappiness and fear that inhabited the current climate, but we thought it, we all thought it. It was there behind the smiles, before the congratulations and the gentle teasing. That was what this war had done to us, all joy turned to dust in the mouth, because it was plagued with the imposing shadow of a world on the brink of destruction. The upside was, however, that Flora had agreed to leave the ministry, at least temporarily. Whether she just accepted the danger, or whether she didn't want to put the foetus at risk, I can't be sure, but it had certainly made Henry happy.

Flora's child brought up an old memory for Oliver and I. Two years previously, I had been pregnant too, for a matter of weeks. The abortion had been a painful and hard decision, but ultimately the right one. It wasn't the right time, and time was important, heck, it was one of the most important things in the world. We had a life to lead, we had careers and, I mean, we were young. I wasn't even sure I could take care of myself, let alone a kid, not at this time, especially not at this time. I thumbed absent-mindedly at a Daily Prophet. The world sucked. No, I corrected myself, the world didn't suck. This tiny portion of the world, this fear that spread through this country, at this time, that was what sucked. And it would pass. Dear God, it had to pass.

Then whatever solace we had found was destroyed, in a way that would change my life, all our lives.


	4. Wedding

_**So I know it's been a while, but what a chapter have I got for you today! Romance, drama, terror and long to boot. I'm actually really proud of this one, can you tell? Anyone, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it. **_

_**Much love and thanks to all readers and reviewers. **_

Chapter Four

It had been a surprise to be invited to the Weasley wedding, it had been years since Charlie and I had dated, and while I'd got the know the family pretty well in that time I hadn't spoken to them for years, save the twins. Yet there was the invite, attached to the leg of a very battered looking owl that had just collapsed on my kitchen table.

"Do you think he's dead?" I asked Oliver, buttering my toast.

"Nah, he's still breathing. He'll come round in a bit."

I thumbed at the invitation, "Do you want to come with me?"

"To what?"

"The wedding."

"Do I want to come with you to the wedding of your ex-boyfriend's brother? I don't know, don't you think that'd be a little odd."

"No. They've said I can bring a date, so that does technically mean you're invited."

"I won't know anyone."

"You'll know me, and the twins, and Charlie for that matter. You were on the team with most of them, you probably know more of them than I do."

"What's in it for me?"

"My deepest love and affection."

"I would hope I already had that."

I chuckled, "Well you won't unless you come to the wedding with me."

"Well we can't have that. Fine. I suppose I do tend to get lucky at weddings."

I threw a crust at him. "Behave."

"Nope" he teased "you have my attendance, you will have to be extra nice to me to get my good behaviour. So less of the crust-throwing please."

At that point the bird on the table spluttered back into life. Oliver fed it the crust that had become entangled in his hair and allowed it to drink out of his teacup while I responded to the invite. The owl took of clumsily, scattering cups as it went, until finally it found the window and flew off into the London sky.

The wedding itself took place a month later. The marquee in the gardens of the Burrow sparkled invitingly, it seemed to ward off the dark clouds of the real world for a night. Fleur looked beautiful, seriously, even for a bride. I had to elbow Oliver heavily in the ribs when she walked down the aisle past us. She was part veela, I learned later from the twins, which accounted for a lot. Bill, on the other hand, seemed to be on the other side of the spectrum. His face had been disfigured, great raking scars nearly obliterating one side of it. When I questioned the twins about that their faces turned darker.

"You remember that ruckus at Hogwarts at the end of last year?" Fred said.

"How could I forget?" That day had changed our lives.

"Bill was attacked by a werewolf, Greyback."

I'd heard the names, whispered under fearful breaths. "Shit", I inhaled deeply. "He's okay though, there's not going to be…side effects"

"No" George spoke this time, "aside from the face we think he's ok. He was lucky, really."

I looked back at Bill, amazed and disheartened at what constituted luck these days. "Yeah."

Oliver rejoined us at that point, heartened by butterbeer and music.

"Fancy a dance with me?" He asked, leaning on the back of my chair.

I wasn't feeling it, "maybe later" I replied, "My feet are killing me. You can dance though? I'm sure you'll find a partner."

"I'm sure I will too" he said, wiggiling his eyebrows. "Gentlemen, please make sure my girlfriend isn't swept away by any handsome Bulgarian Quidditch players while I'm gone."

"Oh please" George chuckled, "If anyone's fallen in love with Krum it's you. I've seen how moony eyed you get when you look at him."

"Ohh" I interjected, "have I got competition?"

"Well, he is a world class Seeker." Wood replied, chuckling.

"Go dance" I told him, "I'll see you later."

"I still can't believe you guys actually got together in the end" Fred told me, when Wood had vanished back into the crowd.

"Well it was practically down to you guys in the first place, your bloody bet."

"What bet?"

"The bet about snogging an opposing Quidditch captain."

"Oh that bet. That ended way before you guys hooked up."

That was a surprise. "Really?"

"Yep, and actually it was just anyone from an opposing team. I won, actually."

"Er, no." George cut in, "I definitely snogged Michaela Simmonds before you snogged Rachel Wyte."

"Well, the timing is blurry" Fred acknowledge, "but Wood had to pay up."

So it had been a cover up. Back then, nearly seven years ago now, I probably would have been annoyed by the lie, but all that time with Oliver had taught me that sometimes he said stupid things, and the trick was picking out the ones to get angry over. And this, well, it was just quite flattering.

"You didn't hear it from us."

"Didn't hear what?" A familiar voice echoed behind me.

"Charlie?" I turned around, "God it's been years."

"Good to see you, Riza" he said, giving me a brief hug. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me, it's lovely, honestly I was surprised I was invited."

"Yeah, would it make you feel terrible if I said you were invited because a couple of people dropped out, and I thought mum was going to have a heart attack."

"Well, we can't have that. No, it doesn't make me feel terrible, I feel very privileged to be asked."

Charlie took one of the seats recently vacated by the twins. "So how have you been?"

"Good, yeah. You?"

"Pretty good. What you up to these days."

I explained briefly about the Goblin scrolls I was still working my way through in some godforsaken basement. He, in return, told me stories about his time working the dragons. It sounded an awful lot cooler than what I was doing. But eventually, inevitably, our conversation turned to Dumbledore, the Ministry and the return of You-Know-Who.

"You think he's really coming back?"

"Yeah" Charlie replied, "Harry says he is, and I believe him."

"Me too."  
"They're going somewhere next year, Ron, Harry and Hermione. They think we don't know about it but they don't give mum enough credit. We don't know what, but they're not going back to Hogwarts. It's something to do with Dumbledore."

"Damn, are you going to let them."

"Well mum's going to do her level best to stop them, but honestly, I think they're going to do it no matter what we say. And maybe they should, someone's got to do something. It's just scary you know, they're kids."

They were kids, I supposed But I thought back to when I was there age, how fearless I was, how stubborn, how just naïve enough I was to not think about how impossible things were, and part of me thought they were exactly the right age.

"What will you do?" Charlie asked.

"I don't know." I replied, dejectedly, "I mean, I want to be a soldier, I feel like a soldier, but there's no battle there's just this fear. How do you fight a shadow?"

"With light." Charlie grinned back, rather pleased with his, admittedly excellent, answer. "And tonight is a very bright night indeed, so a dance?"

He was right, God only knew what was going to happen next, but, to all intents and purposes tonight was a good night, so I allowed him to lead me over to where a several couples where already twirling beneath the glowing lanterns.

"May I" Oliver's voice cut into the music. Charlie nodded and passed me over. Oliver smiled down at me, sweeping me further across the floor. He looked handsome in the glow, the light somehow lingering in his eyes.

"You are looking very beautiful tonight" he muttered in my ear.

"You're not looking to bad, yourself."

I hadn't noticed but we seemed to have left the tent, and were dancing on the lawn, the stars peppering the sky over our heads. Suddenly, Oliver stopped.

"So" he looked awkward, "Weddings…"

"Weddings" I agreed, slightly bemused.

"Would you ever fancy taking part in one in a more…central…role?"

"I've already been a bridesmaid. And you've been a best man, so I hardly think we can complain."

Oliver was fidgeting now, his eyes flickering from me, to the ground, to the stars.

"I was thinking, even more central."

"Like a…?" I knew what he was getting at, but it was funny watching him squirm.

"Oh you know what I mean."

"I think I do, but that doesn't mean you're getting out of saying it."

He relaxed, but only slightly. He finally focused on my face. "Like a bride. Like my bride."

I paused, struggling to keep from grinning. "Just, out of interest" I said teasingly, "where you planning on getting down on one knee?"

"So fussy" Oliver muttered, but he did kneel. "Riza Alvic, God only knows what kind of trouble I am going to bring myself by asking you this, but will you marry me?"

It was getting even more difficult not to grin now, but I managed to reply, exasperated "Oh, why not?"

"Is that a yes?"

I did smile now, "What do you think?"

"Yes?" he asked hopefully, a smile beginning to form.

"YES!" I shouted throwing my head back, before descending into helpless, glorious laughter.

Oliver was laughing too, catching me in his arms he kissed me, something made difficult by the fact that neither of us could stop grinning. It was one of the those perfect, patronus producing moments. In fact, I could see a patronus heading towards the tent.

That couldn't be good news.

And the happiness drained from my face, and from Oliver's. The two of us rushed towards where the silvery form had taken its place in the tent. The words that echoed from it drove the blood from my face.

"_The ministry has fallen, Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."_

It was then the screaming started, tables overturned around us as hundreds of people rushed past desperate to flee the tent. Then the death eaters arrived, I didn't even know what a death eater looked like but when I saw them I knew it instinctively, masked, cloaked figures that sent a jolt of fear and disgust to the bottom of your stomach. Curses began to shoot around us, I thought I saw people falling, maybe dying, but maybe that was just my imagination. Somewhere in the confusion I found a logical thought. I grabbed Oliver's hand and prepared to apparated.

_Take me home._

The first thing I noticed when my knees slammed into the carpet was I was in the living room of my father's flat. I nearly sobbed with relief that I managed to get there. I turned to Oliver, to check he was still with me, and noticed the second thing. Oliver was bleeding, not just a quite deep cut bleeding, properly profusely blood all over the carpet bleeding. His left leg had a huge chunk missing from the thigh, he must have been splinched. For a moment I was too shocked too move, but fortunately my father had already entered the room and taken charge.

"The medicine cabinet, essence of dittany." He told me, sternly, his voice cutting through the rising panic in my brain.

Essence of dittany, okay, I could do that. I pushed everything out of my mind, forcing myself to look for the bottle. If I thought about everything that happened that night I was liable to pass out myself. I found the bottle, and with shaking hands brought it back to my father who was leaning over the unconscious Oliver, his sleeves covered up to the elbow in blood. He took the bottle gently from my hands and poured it over the wound. There was a hiss, and a slight smell of burning and the liquid touched the severed skin, but as the faint smoked cleared away the wound seemed to stop bleeding. Oliver moaned, despite his catatonic state.

"Help me clear this up." My father told me, passing me rolls of tissue, we mopped up the excess blood in silence, until finally, we could see the wound clearly. The sight of it made me want to vomit. I'd never seen someone splinched before, well maybe a couple of eyebrows gone, a finger on one occasion, but never properly, properly splinched. It was horrific, the bone lay exposed beneath layers of muscle, sinew and fat. The skin ripped and discoloured from the dittany. I retched slightly, and my father guided me down into an arm chair.

"You're okay" I breathed, when I finally could speak again, "The ministry, I thought..."

"I got out in time. I'm okay." He hugged me, "I am so happy to see you. But, I'm afraid I have something to tell you."

"What?"

"Not just now, we need to get Oliver sorted first, then we'll talk."

He smiled weakly at me, which did nothing to put my mind at ease. "Okay" I agreed.

"The dittany should help for now, but he needs a healer. Can you contact Henry?"

Henry, I hadn't even thought about Henry and Flora, were they okay? I rushed over the fireplace, and was relieved when Henry finally answered.

"Riza?"

"Yes, are you alright? Is Flora with you?"

"Yes we're all here, did you hear what happened at the ministry? Are you okay?"

I nodded vigorously, "We heard, Oliver and I are at my fathers, he's injured, I know it's a bad time given everything that's going on but is there any chance…"

I didn't even have to finish my sentence before Henry was nodding, "I'll come over right away" he said.

"Will Flora be alright?"  
"She'll be fine, we've taken precautions. Speaking of which, she wants a word. I'll get my stuff and come over."

He moved away and his face was replaced by Flora's, she looked equal parts terrified and relieved.

"I'm so glad you're okay." I gushed at her, "I thought, with you at the ministry."

"I'm on maternity leave." Flora replied, "the baby probably saved my life."

"When's it due?"

"Any day now, is Oliver okay, I heard you talking."

"He's been splinched, it's bad, but he'll make it."

"It's good to see you."

"You too."

"Henry's coming now, stay safe."

"You too. I'll see you soon."

"I hope so."

Flora disappeared and a pop in the next room told me Henry had arrived. When I walked in he had already set about bandaging Oliver's arm.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked, settling down in an armchair.

"Yes" Henry said, not looking up from his work, "but he'll be passed out for a while, and he'll be weak for a few days after that, it's a nasty wound. Splinched?"

I nodded, "It's my fault, I was in a hurry." I paused, "death eaters attacked the wedding."

My father gasped and Henry looked up to stare at me.

"You're not serious?" He said.

"I am. I don't know what's happening now, I hope everyone's okay."

My father put a comforting arm around me. "Thank God you made it back okay."

Henry nodded, returning to his work.

Eventually he was finished. "Would you like a cup of tea?" I asked, as he packed up his things.

"I'd love too, but I should get back. I don't really want to leave Flora alone, she's pretty shaken. We're all pretty shaken."

"You said you had taken precautions?"

"The fidelius charm, what with Flora's job and all, you never know who might come looking."

It was a scary thought, and one I tried to suppress.

"Listen" Henry continued, "I'll speak to you in the next few days, I'll have to come over to check on Oliver anyway, so we'll talk more then." He gave me hug, "It'll be alright."

I nodded weakly, but I couldn't even convince myself, let alone anyone else.

"Bye then"

"Bye"

When Henry had gone my father and me moved Oliver into the guest bedroom, lying him down on the mattress. When we returned to the living room, I knew it was time to discuss what my father had mentioned earlier.

"So, you wanted to talk?" I asked, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.

"Yes" his face looked heavy, and his eyes full of sadness. "I'm sorry, Riza, but I'm afraid that you and I are in grave danger, and we have to leave."

"What?" I had started to feel very dizzy, the words were being heard and I knew what they meant, but they didn't seem to relate to anything.

"I'm so sorry, my darling, but there's something I've never told you. I suppose I just wanted to keep your safe, and there was no reason too, well, until now. Riza, I need to speak to you about your mother."


	5. Heritage

_**Goodness me that was a long break! Take it as a sign that I haven't forgotten about this story and I will keep at it, no matter how slow the process. You have no idea how busy I have been, but I am sorry for leaving it such a cliff-hanger for such a long time. I can't promise this will be the return of semi-regular updates but I will try my best. Busy times lie ahead for me. But at least this chapter does answer the question of who Riza's mother is! **_

_**Thanks to readers and reviewers.**_

Chapter Five

"My mother?" The words felt strange in my mouth, almost haunted. We never spoke about my mother, why was he bringing her up now?

"Yes. And I'm sorry, Riza, but it's not a particularly nice story. If I'd been given the choice I would never have told you, never have burdened you with this, but things change, the circle turns, wounds reopen."

"Dad, with all due respect, will you stop philosophising and tell me what the hell is going on?" I knew I sounded harsh, but I just wanted out with it, I'd waited to find out about my mother for my whole life, and now, finally, I was going to know the truth, even if it was horrible.

"Ok, let me start at the beginning. You were born in fearful times, times darker even than these are now, times which I fear are coming round again. People were disappearing, dying, it was hopeless, so at first I wasn't surprised when your mother began becoming increasing unstable. We were all pretty unstable.

"You're mother loved you, you have to understand that, she would have done anything to keep you safe. I only realised how far she meant to go when she proposed to me the idea that we should come out of hiding and join the ranks of You-Know-Who's army. I refused her instantly, and brushed her request off as a frightened woman's desperation for the safety of her child, but she kept asking, every day she became more vehement. I couldn't acknowledge it at the time but now I can see, she was slowly losing her mind.

"She tried it, one day, just after you turned four, she took you and made to find You-Know-Who, to offer her services and place herself under his protection. Fortunately I found her before she found him. I managed to retrieve you and begged her to come back with me, to forget this crazy plan, but she wouldn't, at that point I don't think she could have even if she wanted to, she was too far gone. I saw the madness in her eyes and I knew she wasn't my wife anymore. She left after that, but not before promising she'd find you again, find both of us. I spent the next few weeks living in fear, but amazingly, that summer You-Know-Who was defeated, or we thought he was, I suppose current events put that theory to rest. The last thing I heard of you mother, she was in Azkaban. Or she was, until the breakout."

I was stunned, properly, knocked sideways, could barely speak stunned. And reviled, and sick and, and I don't know what else. There was no textbook telling you how to respond to the news that your own mother was the enemy, a death eater, and that she would be coming after you.

"I'm sorry" my father continued, "but we have to go on the run, Azkaban will have done nothing for your mother's sanity, and I fear we are both in danger. She will be looking for us."

"What's her name?" I asked, finding my voice, realising only now that I'd never learnt it.

"Mary" My father replied, his face softening "Now, you need to go and pack your things. You've got to leave."

"But you're coming with me right?"

"I'm afraid not, my darling. It's too dangerous. I'm a ministry official, they may well be able to trace me. Besides, you'll draw less attention on your own."

"On my own?" So I was to be alone. Really alone for the first time in my life. Alone in the frightened world full of frightened people. I couldn't do this. Before I could stop myself I had been sick, the fetid liquid flowing out of my mouth did nothing to soothe the panic.

My father steadied me and went to fetch me a glass of water. The empty room swam around me, perpetuating the unreality of the situation. This couldn't be happening. Not two years ago I had been normal, happy, Riza, with no real cares in the world. How could it change now, how could I have been transfigured so. This was someone else's life. It couldn't be mine.

When my father returned I had been sick, again. He sat beside me, his arm around my shoulders. It was only when I felt the dampness on my shoulder I noticed he was crying.

And that strengthened me. Because my mother had made my father cry before, so many years ago, and now she was doing again and suddenly I wasn't sad or shocked anymore, I was angry. I was angry at this stupid world, and at the mother who now destroyed my life despite never having been in it. The woman who had broken my father, but who would never, _never_ get the chance to break me.

I forced myself to sit upright. The room steadied and I was myself again. This wasn't someone else's life, it was mine, and nobody was going to take my volition from me. I would run, I would hide and somehow, when the time came, I would find a way to fight back. Even if it killed me.

I got to my feet, my father looked at me. I nodded at him.

"I'm going to pack."

He returned the nod, and I walked, unsteady but determined into my old bedroom.

I still had some clothes left over, things I hadn't worn for years. Touching them made me feel nostalgic and brought back memories of happier times. These were the clothes I had worn at Hogwarts, the clothes that had accompanied when I first met Henry, and Flora, Oliver's and my first kiss, and our first argument. The clothes I had served detention in, the clothes I had become Quidditch captain in. The clothes I had become myself in, and had learned to fight in.

Leonard's old, never-used, cage was there too. I still missed him, but rats didn't live that long. However, just because I didn't have Leonard didn't mean I would be alone on my journey. Leonard had become a father in his life, and I still had quite a few of his grandchildren, which my father looked after. One, my favourite, scuttled up my arm.

"You alright there, Woody?" I muttered to Oliver's namesake. Woody squeaked at me. "I'm going on an adventure." I told him, "I won't force you to come, but I would appreciate it."

Woody seemed to nod at me and jumped into a pocket of the bag I had been packing, magically enhanced for extra space. I added a tent and some jumpers into the main section, before moving through to the kitchen and stocking up on food. Finally, I returned to the living room.

"Where will you go?" My father asked.  
"Peru, I suppose" seems as safe as anywhere.

"I'm afraid you can't." My father looked sadder than ever. "Not by apparating. The borders have been closed."

"So we're stuck here."

"My advice is keep moving, they can't track you so easily if you're on the run. Stay away from any muggle towns if you can. You-Know-Who might attack there. Oh, my darling girl, please be safe."

"What about you?"

"Same as you. Don't worry, I can look after myself. You forget, I've done this before. As soon as this is over I will find you. Do you understand?"

"So this will be over?"

"I do not believe that darkness lasts for ever. All nights end in the dawn, so too will this."

Usually I was irritated by my father's taste for the poetic, but in this situation, this sad, desperate situation, I was thankful for the strange solace it brought. Overcome with emotion I flung myself into my father's arms. He held me, breathing heavily in my ear, and I wondered how long it will be until I would hug him again. Maybe never. The thought swam sickeningly in front of me, threatening my fragile strength. I pushed it aside, I couldn't think like that. My father was right, this couldn't last forever.

A deafening crash parted us. My father looked at me in alarm.

"They're here. We need to leave."

"What about Oliver? He's been splinched."

"If they find him they will kill him, we have to get him out of here."

I pushed the panic aside. "I'll take him to Henry's."

"I thought you said they house was under protection?"

"If I can get close enough I know they'll let me in. You need to go."

My father looked pained. He took my hand and pulled me into another swift hug, around us the noises got louder.

"You are strong" my father told me, "even when you were a baby. You are my strong, beautiful, clever daughter and you will survive this. Don't ever let them break you."

I nodded, "I won't. I love you, dad."

"I love you so much my precious, precious child."

I saw the tears form in his eyes, but he disapperated before they had the chance to fall.

I had no time to mourn his leaving. I crashed into the room where Oliver was lying. He was awake, but disorientated.

"What's that noise?" he muttered.

"I can't explain now. But we need to leave. Right now."

"I can't apparate."

"I can. And I'm taking you with me."

Maybe he was too weak to argue, or maybe he saw the fearful determination in my eyes and decided not to but he gave a small nod. I grabbed the Essence of Dittany from the side and put it in my bag. Then I grabbed Oliver by the wrist and thought carefully of a small patch of trees outside of Henry and Flora's house. I tried to steady my mind, and then we disappeared.


	6. Sanctuary

The first thing I did when my feet crashed to the ground was to check on Oliver. There was no blood, which could only be a good sign, but he was unconscious. I slapped his face, trying to rouse him, but all I received in return was a muffled groan before he slipped back into sleep. Well, at least that meant he was alive.

I couldn't see the house, such was the power of the charm, so with nothing else to do but wait I settled down next to Oliver, waiting for Henry or Flora to make an appearance. They had to come out some time, didn't they?

It felt like hours passed, and the night air turned cold around me. I kept turning to Oliver, making sure he was still alive, before settling back into the chaos of my own thoughts.

All things considered, it had been one hell of a day.

So, I finally knew who my mother was. I had to say, I would have preferred the vampire thing. This was… I didn't know what this was. It was scary, and sickening, and disappointing. Disappointing because, I had to admit, I'd always harboured hope that my mother might come back, that I'd see her again. And maybe now I would, but it wouldn't be right. She was the bad guy. I hadn't been expecting that.

The sun was starting to rise when I heard a mutter behind me. I turned to see Oliver blinking in the early light.

"What happened?" he croaked at me.

"You got splinched. You're going to be alright, just try not to move too much."

"Where are we?"

"We're outside Henry and Flora's house. We had to leave. Erm, I'm kind of on the run."

"Why?"

"Oh, Oliver, that is a very long story. Can we just focus on getting you better again? Henry or Flora have to come out soon enough."

"We were at the wedding….and then."

"You had just asked me to marry you."  
"Oh"

"I said yes, if that helps."

Oliver smiled. "Well, then I guess things can't be too bad."

"You would really be surprised."

"No, as long as we're together, nothing can be too bad."

Oliver settled back onto the ground, and his eyes flickered closed again. Soon he was sleeping.

I was glad of the end of the conversation. I didn't know much about what the next few months would hold for me, but I did know that wherever I was going, I was going alone. I couldn't drag into this, it would be too dangerous. Now I just needed to work out how to tell Oliver that.

Eventually, I saw a figure crossing the field, it was unmistakably Henry. Resisting the urge to call out I darted out of our hiding place and grabbed him.

"Henry. It's me."

"Riza? What are you-? Wait." Suddenly Henry had his wand out, and was pointing it at me. "Prove it's you."

"What? Er, fine. My full name is Elizabeth Morgan Alvic, you always used to say my mother was a vampire. I'm here with the news that it's a little more complex than that."

"Alright then." Henry put the wand down. "It's good to see you."

"You too, it is you right?"

"Henry James Grimes, you once locked me in a cupboard in second year because I pushed you in the lake."

"Completely justified."

We smiled at each other, before grabbing each other and hugging tightly.

"I need your help" I told him.

"Okay".

"It's Oliver, he's been splinched, and then I had to apparate here with him and…I don't know, can you help him?"

Henry nodded "Where is he?"

I showed Henry, and soon we were walking towards where the house must be, levitating Oliver between us. We laid him down in the spare bedroom.

"He should rest" Henry told me.

I nodded and followed Henry out the room. Flora greeted me as I reached the hallway with a tearful hug.

"It's so good to see you!" She sniffled "I've been so worried."

"It's good to see you too."

"Is Oliver-?"

"He'll be fine" Henry chimed in, "he just needs to rest, and he probably won't be able to go anywhere for a while. But's that fine, we can look after you for as long as you need."

"That means a lot" I told them, feeling numb "but actually, I won't be staying."

Flora and Henry looked at me, confused.

"Erm, you might want to be sitting down for this next part." I continued.

And then I told them. As best as I could with the information I had. About the wedding, about attack, about my mother. The only thing I left out was Oliver's proposal. It was too painful, and now nothing more a remote possibility that existed only in a world far removed from the one which had been thrust upon us in the last twenty four hours. I was going on the run, not down the aisle, and pretending otherwise would only serve as futile dreaming.

By the time I finished my story Henry and Flora were staring at me in stunned silence.

"So….oh my God." Flora finally managed to spit out.

"Yeah" I replied. "It's bad."

"You can't be serious about going" Henry told me, earnestly.

"He's right" Flora added "you have to stay here. We can't let you go out there. Not now."

It would have been so easy to agree to stay. To hide away under the charm and shut myself off from the world, to live with Henry and Flora and Oliver, to cower from the darkness. But I knew I couldn't, protective spells would never be enough. My presence put everyone in danger, and I wouldn't let that happen. I had to get out of there and hope that no one would follow my trail.

"I can't stay." I said simply. "I won't let you guys be put in danger on my account."

"We won't be in danger" Flora insisted, "we wouldn't have it any other way. We can protect you."

I wondered how many assurances just like that had been made the first time You-Know-Who had come to power, and how many had actually worked. I suspected not many. Nobody could protect anyone, just like I, small and afraid Riza Alvic, couldn't protect anyone. I could just keep them as far away from danger as possible.

When I looked Henry in the eye for the first time I saw there were tears in his eyes.

"We can't convince you to stay, can we?"

"We've know each other over a decade, I think you know the answer" I replied, smiling weakly. "If I stayed and something happened…. I'm going."

"You never should have been a Ravenclaw" Flora said, half-laughing, half-choking back sobs, "you always had that stupid, Gryffindor bravery thing."

That was a surprise, "I don't feel brave." I confessed, "I feel very, very scared. But I love you guys more than I fear what's out there. So that makes this decision very, very simple."

"Let us tell you the secret for the charm" Flora replied, "so that you can come back if you need to."

I shook my head, "If I got caught…. The less I know the better. I'm not going to put you in danger."

"When will you go?" Henry asked.

"Soon, I guess" I replied, "any moment now. I'm just working up the nerve."

"You can't leave now."

"No?"

"Let us give you some provisions. And you can't leave before saying goodbye to Oliver."

Oliver. Somehow he'd managed to blissfully slip my mind as I resolved to set out alone. But Henry's words brought back all the pain and difficulty all over again. He would try and come with me, desperately. But he couldn't. This was something I had to do alone, and, God, I felt so alone. Seeing him could shatter my resolve.

"I can't" I said sadly, "and I have provisions. Just, look after him, and tell him I'm sorry. He won't understand, but I am."

Sorry didn't seem nearly enough.

I rose from the table slowly. Henry and Flora embraced me solemnly, and though I tried to convince myself it wouldn't be the last time I saw them, there was a finality in the act which unsettled me.

"I will see you again" I promised through a shaky voice, "I will."

"Yeah, you'd better" replied Henry.

I couldn't stay a moment longer, because in that moment I would have broken down and agreed to leave. With nothing left but curt nod I turned and walked out the door into an uncertain future.

I was well into the forest when I heard the smashing of heavy footsteps behind me. I burst into a run, but was stopped in my tracks by a familiar voice.

"Riza!"

Oliver burst into the clearing behind me. Panting and desperate.

"They told me what happened." He said between gaps "You can't really leave."

"I have to. You shouldn't be here."

"Did you really think I'd let you go? I love you, and a few death eaters aren't going to stop me from staying with you. We can fight them, together."

He made it sound so easy, and if I was a more reckless person perhaps I would have been convinced. But Flora was wrong, I was a Ravenclaw and I saw things with the stark logic that Oliver didn't. Two of us against the world would have no better luck than just one, and I had no intention of letting Oliver come to harm.

"You can't come with me." I said simply, "I have to go alone."

"You always say you need to do things alone. You don't. You have me."

"I know. And I will always have you, whether we are together or apart, as long as I know you're alive. But if you die, I don't have you. And if you come with me there's a chance that might happen."

"You're saying you're going to die?"

"I don't know. I hope not. But I do know that there is a chance, and because of that I am never going to put anyone I love in danger. I'm sorry."

"What are you so afraid of?"

"Where would you like me to start? The death eaters, my mother, Voldemort?"

Both Oliver and I stopped dead, I hadn't meant to say the name, it had just slipped out. The word felt strange and toxic in my mouth.

But before I had time to reflect there was a rushing noise, and then the pop of appartition. I looked at Oliver horrified, he ran to me.

Masked figures appeared in the woods around us. Without thinking I set a curse towards them, singing the grass around us, but it did little to stop their progress.

Oliver pulled me close, kissing me desperately.

"Run" he said, as he broke away.

"What about you?"

"I'm pureblood, they won't hurt me."

The figures were closing in. I shot another curse, buying us a few more seconds.

Oliver backed away from me. "Riza Alvic, I will find you, when this is over, and marry you. Just come back alive. Promise me."

"I will."

I vanished, my last sight was the death eaters closing in on Oliver.


	7. Simon

_**Guess who's back! I'm so sorry for the delay, I've just had my uni finals so things have been VERY busy at Red Sparks HQ. However, I am back now and I have a new chapter just for you. And it's a long one, just to show how extra sorry I am. **_

For a moment I wasn't sure where I was. In the confusion I had forgotten the place I had apparated to. The sight of the rolling hills in the distance reminded me, however, I had come to Derbyshire, the peak district. A half-remembered place from a distant holiday and happier times. Behind me swept a large forest, which I could only hope would provide shelter from whatever was out there. I forced myself not to think of Oliver, to think of anything, because if I did I would just sit on the ground and curl up and never move again. This new world was like being lost in a forest. You had to keep going, keep walking and hope that somehow you'd loop back to a place you knew. To a place you could be safe.

So I kept walking. I found the remotest part of the forest and set about with my enchantments, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. When all was done I sat in the tent with Woody, eating pieces of cheese and feeling very lost.

"What do I do now?" I muttered to Woody, who just looked up at me, his face sympathetic but hopeless. He certainly didn't have any ideas, and neither did I. There was nowhere for me to go because I wasn't going anywhere. I was just drifting now, staying under the radar, out of the spotlight, hidden from the world, for however long this darkness went on for. More than anything I wished I could do something, wished I had some way of fighting back. But I couldn't see this enemy, and I was so alone out here. I wanted to be a solider but where was my army? Where was anyone? It was just me and these empty woods, and if there was a battle raging then it was far away from me, and yet too close by far.

I lay back on my bed and flicked through a Quidditch magazine. My eyes passed over the words but didn't stick. My head was too full of thought to absorb match results, and player statistics, and broom reviews. I flipped over a page and jolted. Oliver's face beamed up at me, there among his fellow Puddlemere members. The picture of him, smiling, clashed so vividly with that final image I had of him, being dragged away to who knew where by Death Eaters, it made me feel sick. I shut the magazine quickly and hurried out of the tent to get some fresh air.

I slapped myself, the pain piercing through the wave of despair that threatened to overthrow me. This was not me. Riza Alvic didn't wimper, she didn't moan, she didn't break. Riza Alvic was a fighter and no one was going to take that from me. Not when they'd taking so much already. This was my battle, to fight against the loss I was feeling. To take a stand against the misery I was facing. To not be beaten. To not lose myself to pain. To be stronger and better and burn brighter against the darkness than I ever had.

I paced around the clearing. My vigour charging my steps. I had no army. But maybe you didn't need one. Maybe you could do enough on your own. Not anything huge perhaps, but enough to be able to say you did _something_, enough so spending what felt like years running did have to be running away. I may be in danger, but there were others more at risk than me. Muggles who had no idea that there was even a war going on, but who would be the worst casualties from it. I could help them. Somebody had to help them.

My now powerful and enthused strides came to a sudden halt with the sound of breaking branches not too far away. I ran to the edge of my protection, looking out into the woods.

It was a patrol of some kind, albeit a small one. Two figures, a man and a woman, their faces cruel and haggard, were pushing a young man in front of them. I couldn't see his face at first but he seemed familiar. Suddenly he turned towards me and I recognised him, it was Simon, from back at my days at the dig. He had been beaten badly and could scarcely walk. I froze, wondering what to do.

I had to do something. To not would have been to break every vow I just made. To hide when someone clearly needed help, it would make me feel more sick than any photo of Oliver in a magazine. Silently, although I knew they couldn't hear me, I drew my wand.

"Pretty little Mudblood boy" the woman chuckled nastily.

"He's not so pretty now." The man replied.

"Less pretty still when we get him to the camp." The woman gave a nasty shriek and gave Simon a swift kick in the back of the ankle. He stumbled to the ground, leaving the two death eaters open to my attack.

"Stupefy" I muttered, sending out the spell and knocking the man in the chest. He flew backwards landing unconscious on the roots of a nearby tree.

The woman drew her wand immediately and turned wildly, searching me out. I sent out another curse and she too collapsed.

Before Simon knew what was happening I pulled him through my defences. He gazed up at me, amazed.

"Riza?"

"The one and only. My God, Simon, what happened to you?"

"They came to my flat one evening, I don't know, I don't know what's happening."

"Yeah, well that makes two of us. But fancy running into you, crazy world, huh?"

Simon looked back towards the unconsciousness death eaters. "Yeah, something like that."

"We need to go, that spell won't knock them out for long."

"Don't you have shields up?"

"I'm going to level with you, Simon old boy, I put as much faith in my shields as I do in a Goblin bargin. We need to go."

Simon didn't put up any resistance, we returned to the tent and hurriedly packed it away, I'd been here for less than two hours and I was moving on already. I only hoped that the rest of my imposed exile could be so thrilling. When all was clear I lowered the shields and Simon and I disapperated.

I landed on my knees in yet another middle of nowhere. Next to me Simon was brushing dirt off his shirt and looking around him.

"I always hate doing that." He muttered.

"Where did you take us?" I asked, inspecting my unfamiliar surroundings.

"Me? I thought you were leading!"

"What gave you that impression?"

"Well, you do seem to have taken charge somewhat."

"Oh suddenly saving your life is taking charge?"

"Well it certainly gives you more authority than being rescued."

I shrugged my shoulders, defeated.

"Well, I don't recognise this place. And if I was thinking of anywhere it was home, back in London."

"This certainly isn't London" Simon commented, looking around the forest that engulfed us. "I was thinking of Norwich."

"That your home?"

Simon nodded. "Feels a very long way away."

"It might not be. For all we know."

I hoisted the bag higher on my shoulder and headed through the woods.

"Where are you going?" Simon called after me.

"I'm not setting up camp without knowing where we are. This could be Vol-"

Simon cut me off with a strangled cry.

"Don't say the name. It's jinxed, it gives off a signal so they can find you."

Well that explained a lot. I could have kicked myself, I could have got Oliver captured over a stupid verbal slip. The guilt and grief swept over me again, threatening to choke me, threatening to pull me to my knees and never let me rise. _No, _I told myself, _don't think about that_. If I let myself go into the hollowness that was settling in my heart I'd never be able to leave again. I had to keep paddling, out of the reach of the abyss. And pray I would see him again, see them all again.

"We need to move." I said simply, tearing myself back into the here and now. Simon nodded and trotted up alongside me, we headed off through the woods together.

"So what happened?" I asked, after we'd been walking in silence for a few minutes. "How'd you get captured."

"I was in the ministry when it fell. They rounded up all the" he paused "the _mudbloods._" he spat the word out with disgust.

"You shouldn't call yourself that." I reproached him, gently.

"No, it's fine. I think we should reclaim the word." Simon said simply, "Mud is the essence of the earth, you know, it hides precious metals, plants, even whole civilisations. I can think of far worse things to have in my veins."

I wondered how much he meant it, but my respect for Simon grew none the less. "So what happened next, how did you wind up in Derbyshire?"

"I escaped when the moved us to the camps."

"Camps?"

"It's where they store the mudbloods. A sort of holding pen until they, you know, kill us off. In the meantime they have their fun with us."

"Fun?"

"Cruiciatus curse, mostly."

"That's horrific."

"Quite. The camp I escaped from was close to where you were camping. They'd taken my wand, so I couldn't disapparate. I just ran as fast as I could, for as long as I could. Unfortunately my physical fitness has improved little since you knew me last. They caught me again. They were taking me back when you rescued me. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

I wondered how many camps were set up all over the country, I wondered if we were walking towards one right now. _Maybe Oliver has been taken there_, a voice in my head muttered cruelly, but I brushed it aside. _Maybe your mother runs a camp_, another said, _maybe she tortures innocent victims like Simon_. The thoughts kept coming, threatening to overwhelm me. I was trying to shut them out, but like a tide coming in they withdrew only momentarily before crashing down once more, moving close to overwhelming me each time. Soon I would drown beneath them.

"Over here!" Simon's cry interrupted my thoughts. He was gesturing to a sign, set up for tourists. "Says here we're in Epping forest."

I'd come to the forest a few times as a child. The wayward disapparation must have taken us somewhere between where I and Simon were thinking. I felt safe enough here, safe enough to rest for a while, anyway. Simon and I wandered away from the marked path for a couple of miles until we were content we were far enough from any civilisation to go unnoticed.

With the tent erected Simon set about making dinner and I lay on the sofa, staring and the cloth ceiling and wondering just how much longer this could go on for. It had been less than a day, it already felt far too long.

Simon proved himself a good cook, and the food was better than anything I could have prepared for myself. I was starving, and I regretted not taking up Flora's offer of food this morning. God, had it only been this morning? It felt like a century ago. I had aged too much for only a brief 8 hours to have passed.

"So, why are you on the run?" Simon asked, broaching the subject with some tact.

"That" I told him, "is a conversation for another dinner. I want to talk of happier things."

"Alright, let's talk of happier things. What have you been up to since the dig?"

So I told him, the peaceful and blissful memories of the years that had preceded this darkness. About Henry and Flora, my father, my first house, my promotion to British Ambassador for the International Magical Library, ending with my engagement to Oliver.

"Congratulations, may I see the ring."

"Well, we never really got that far, this whole war thing kind of got in the way."

Simon chuckled at that. And I chuckled too. And suddenly we were both in fits of laughter born of the sheer absurdity of our situation. It was so far from how I imagined my first evening on the run being, and it came as a welcome surprise. Maybe I didn't have to sink into despair just yet.

That evening, despite having no intention of sending it, I wrote a letter to Oliver.

_Dear Oliver,_

_I know you're never going to read these words, and I sincerely hope that it is because I throw them away out of embarrassment rather than because you aren't around to read them when all this is over. But I want to write them, because I miss you, and because I've always been terrible at keeping a diary, but I feel I'll want to remember these days in the years to come and if I am going to record them for anyone I will record them for you._

_So here I am, first day on the run. It's about as fun as one would imagine, and I wish you were here. However, I have found a reasonable replacement in the form of Simon, remember that guy from my dig? Well I saved him from some death eaters (I know, and only my first day too), and have adopted him onto my journeying crew. I fully expect to have a whole tribe of devoted followers by the time I see you next time. Perhaps I could raise an army of my own, and lead a crusade against You-Know-Who. He may be more powerful but I'm much better looking._

_Adopting Simon has turned out to be a rather excellent idea. Despite a slight misadventure with apparating he has proved to be good company, and at least I won't go insane from being on my own all the time. He also is an excellent cook, so I won't be poisoning myself anytime soon. Of course, I'd rather be here with you, even if your cooking is absolutely abysmal. _

_Actually, I don't wish you were here. I wish I was there, with you. I wish we were safe, and together and all this was over. But at the moment that's not the case, and I won't risk a hair on your head until I know that I am of no danger to any of you. I just hope I haven't gotten you hurt already._

_Dear God, Oliver, if you do nothing else for me ever again, just be alive. Be safe. Find someone else, if that's what it takes, leave the country and never come back, never see me again, but be safe. _

_You owe me a wedding. And it better be a bloody good one after all this._

_I love you. I miss you._

_Riza _

I folded the letter carefully and stowed it carefully in a drawer. Then I lay on my bed and stared at the wall, trying to beat back the pain. I didn't notice when Simon turned out the light.


End file.
